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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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21.
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Deserts That Dance In My Mind
Endless walks, nothing at all in sight;
Nothing and nobody in sight. My mind, still and
Oblivious to the external world, scorched and
Silent, walked, walked, walked on.
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People with pasts have memories to keep them warm
And others, have nothing more to say.
The mind, like a furnace, clings to the air
To burn, to burn, to burn bright.
There are deserts that dance in my mind
Strange, irreal and almost divine.
They beckon, they chase me from reason
As I circle in the vast nowhere, somewhere, everywhere.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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22.
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The Depth of Longing
On this steep slope that leads to a far-off frontier
There is nothing, not even a guide.
Intention, detention and retention
Freedom lies in blue skies
Where lies my destiny?
A thread unravlled here and there
And a restless, weary spirit travelling
Never resting, never unravelling
The skeins of that silken yarn
To match the depths of the longing
The longing of the single solitary star
Skimming is cosmic spaces, brilliant and bold
The long-lost memory of belonging
For a single instant to somebody somewhere sometime
In an epoch that vaunts the lack of belonging
To the depths of this longing.
Copyright 2008 Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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23.
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The Night, Glorious, Unbending
The night, glorious, unbending,
Takes and gives nothing away
The night, silent, refuses the alms offered by day
Day, loquacious, has questions and answers
But the night doesn't even ponder
Looks far ahead, yonder
Night silently turns away.
Day is curious about these silences
That stretch into infinity: silences that stretch
Until the pale dawn arises
Silences that from ages past and ages to come
Are the very inscrutable embodiment
Of what the night has become.
Rani Turton
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24.
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The Teacher of All I Know
Here alone with all I profess
A faith, a belief in some systems of thought
Professors and priests, mystics and bards
All were often one I confess.
There were some unlettered men
Who knew more than the savants, then
There were bards who could sing and swear
And find their way to your heart there.
There were wild poppies dancing
Wild horses prancing
The teacher of all I know
Came for a few seasons
Then went for his own benighted reasons.
There was lifes blood and show
The poetry and pain and pageantry's stream
Whirled around in a fevered dream
Life was what it did not seem
Thus taught the teacher of all I know.
Rani Turton
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